I looked around the gracious old manor that would soon belong to me. I imagined Milo at my side, and how rosy a future with the omega would be. Walking through the ground floor, I couldn't shake the weird feeling of being watched. I passed through the surprisingly modern kitchen. The previous owners had spared no expense in the room.

Milo would flip when he saw the wide granite counter tops and the huge six burner stove-top. The double ovens would be perfect for making large meals during the holidays when we'd gather with our friends to celebrate the season. I shook my head, amused at how I was already planning a future with my shy omega.

It seemed natural though. For some reason, I couldn't picture living in this house without Milo. He just belonged here, I could feel it in my bones. I wandered upstairs and poked around the various bedrooms and bathrooms. The small study would make a perfect writer's cave for me.

Again, even as I imagined myself working there, the image of Milo came to mind. I would be sitting at my large wooden desk, engrossed in the scene I was creating on the laptop screen when Milo's hands would rest on my shoulders as he leaned over to see what I'd written before kissing my cheek. He'd gently tell me to wrap it up because dinner would be ready soon.

As I smiled at the image, I looked up to the window and about jumped out of my skin when I saw a plump little old lady reflected there. I spun around to see her smiling at me with sparkling eyes and rosy cheeks. Her whole body was round and soft-looking, like it was made to give hugs and cookies to small children.

Once I found my voice, I said: “I'm sorry. I didn't know anyone else was here right now. I'm Rafe. And you are?”

She chuckled merrily and waved me off. “I'm Agatha, my dear boy. I just wanted to pop in and see how things were in this old place. Forgive me for startling you.”

Now that my pulse had slowed to a more normal rate, I smiled easily. “No worries, Ma'am. Did you know the people who used to live here? It's a beautiful old place, right?”

Agatha smiled lovingly as she ran a hand along the chair rail that ran along the lower third of the wall. “It is a beautiful home, yes. But more beautiful are the many happy memories that these walls contain.”

I smiled with a mutual affection for the house. After all, I wouldn't be buying it if I didn't love it already. “I bet,” I said. “If these walls could talk, right?”

Agatha smiled and said: “You'd be surprised, young man. Now tell me, Rafe. What led you to this house? I assume that you're the new owner?”

I nodded, realizing suddenly that she still hadn't told me how she knew the house or how she'd gotten in. I could have sworn I'd locked the door. Surely the old bird didn't have a key, right?

“Yes, Ma'am. I'm the new owner. I looked all around for a home in the area, but nothing was right until I walked in the door of this beauty. It was like, I knew I was home. Does that make sense?”

Agatha nodded, her head of silver curls bobbing with the movement. “It does. I've always felt the same since the day I first stepped through the front door when I was but a young bride just moved to town. There's a certain peace to this old place.”

I turned to look out the window and admire the colorful flower garden that lined the backyard. “How did you say that you knew the former owners again, Ma'am? Were they friends of your husband?”

When there was no response, I turned around to find myself alone. I shook my head, wondering where the sweet little lady had wandered off to and if I should have made her leave the second I'd seen her. Somehow, it hadn't seemed like the right thing to do though.

I looked around the entire upstairs area, but there was not another living soul on the floor except for me. I took a glance at the door to the attic, but when I went to open it, it was locked. Obviously, she hadn't gone that way then.

After I made my way back downstairs and looked around, I had to accept that she'd ducked out the way she'd come in. Which I soon discovered wasn't the front door, because it was still locked like I thought it was.

The weirdest part was that as I shook my head and went back to exploring the house, I could have sworn that I heard giggling. But that was impossible, because I was once again alone in the house.

* * *

I ducked out later in the afternoon to pick up some dinner. The only downside to squatting in what would soon be my own home, was that there was no food or power. The only reason there was running water was apparently because the realty company had wanted working toilets during the open house.

I'd wanted to pop into Sweet Ballz and surprise Milo, but they had already closed for the day. I looked at my watch, surprised to see that it was already a quarter after six. I fired off a text to Milo instead, and went to the diner to pick up the deli sandwich that I'd ordered to-go.

When I pulled up to the manor a short time later, I was shocked to see all the lights on inside. What? Lights? Who had turned the power on? And when? As I got out of the car, I could hear lively jazz music playing inside. I scratched my head, wondering if Milo had come over to surprise me. But no, that couldn't be, because I hadn't told him where I lived yet. Although, it was a small town so it wouldn't be unheard of for him to know where I was moving.

Ian was another viable option, except for the fact that Ian would sooner kiss a girl than listen to jazz. The man had no taste for any music that wasn't played in the clubs. I shook my head as I dug out my keys, excited to see who was waiting to surprise me on my first unofficial night in the new house.

But when I walked inside, the house was dim and silent. I flicked the light switch, thinking that whoever was here was teasing me. Flick, flick. Nothing. There was either no juice to the switch or no light was plugged in because it didn't work. The light of the dying day filtered in through the open curtains, but no other lights were present.

My heart raced as I went from room to room flicking light switches, but nothing worked. I knew there had to be a reasonable explanation, but there was nothing that came to mind. A floorboard creaked overhead, and I restrained myself from calling out. Maybe whoever was here wasn't a friend after all.

And yet. The house still felt peaceful and welcoming, as if I'd come home after a lifetime away. I set my food down on my sleeping bag, and rifled through my backpack for a flashlight. I dialed 911 on my cell, but didn't hit send. I just wanted the comfort of knowing that it was good to go if needed. I put my phone in my shirt pocket and headed for the staircase.

I slowly climbed the stairs, keeping to the wall so as not to accidentally step on any creaky boards. Once I reached the upstairs level, I cased the floor like a SWAT team member as I carefully edged around corners before shining my light into each room. I went over the entire floor, but nothing was to be found.

I stopped near the door to the attic, and scratched my head again. On a whim, I tried the knob. It turned easily in my hand, which surprised me to no end since the realty agent had told me that no known keys existed to open that door. And it had been locked just a few hours ago. Hadn't it? As I slowly swung it open, a blast of cold air rushed at my face, as if I were facing into a fan.

My pulse raced as a stream of cold sweat ran down my spine. Shaking my head at my silly notions, I went up the narrow staircase. It was so cold, that I could see my breath every time that I exhaled. Weird. Maybe a window was open up here? Even then though, it shouldn't be this cold in September. Especially in an upstairs attic. I mean, everyone knows that heat rises.

At the top, I looked around at the piles of things from yesteryear. There was nobody here but me, so I was free to explore. An old seamstress dummy stood near the window with a half finished dress pinned to it. The faint light coming in the window showed the faded gingham fabric that was held together with brightly colored pins.

I stopped to look at a nifty old croquet set that sat just past the door in a wooden caddy. It looked to be complete. “Huh,” I said aloud as I squatted in front of the caddy and ran a hand over a smooth wooden mallet. “I'll have to take you downstairs when I have Milo over. I bet he'd get a kick out of playing croquet with me. I'll just make sure that he knows I have permanent dibs on the red ball.”

When I said Milo's name, the arctic air seemed to warm up by several degrees. I guess even my house liked the sound of his name. I know I sure as hell did. Standing again, I continued my explorations. There was a plethora of old toys and rows of dusty books along one side of the room. The stack of paintings against the wall near the chimney caught my eye, but I decided to wait until daylight to look them over.

The light was dying and I didn't want to stay up here in this weird attic armed only with a flashlight. I took a long look around the room. My gaze was drawn to an old wardrobe cabinet tucked into a corner with a huge wooden chest sitting next to it. I went over to give it a quick look. I couldn't explain it, but I was simply drawn to it with a magnetic pull.

I ran my hand over the smooth wood, admiring the craftsmanship of whoever had built this beautiful piece of furniture. The large chest next to it was crafted of the same wood. Obviously the two belonged together. I patted the top of the chest, thinking ahead to where it might fit into my home when I began furnishing it.

The sudden clatter of balls and wood falling against the wooden floor made me jump at least a foot in the air. I clutched my chest, as if trying to keep my heart from jumping out through my skin. I drew in a shaky breath and decided that my exploration was done. I quickly made my way to the stairs. When I got near, I saw the croquet caddy laying on its side, with the mallets and balls strewn all around it.

I didn't stop to wonder how the fuck the heavy caddy had fallen over with nobody there to push it. Nope. I didn't even stop to think about thinking about it. Instead, I dodged my way through the balls, and ran down the flight of stairs like my ass was on fire. I thought that I heard a faint giggling sound, and a thunking behind me on the stairs. I quickly propelled myself through the door.

As I went to shut the door, I noticed a lone croquet ball sitting on the bottom step. Ah. The source of the noise. I shut the door and made my way downstairs. I must have kicked the ball accidentally as I was making my escape. That was the only logical explanation.

The fact that the ball I'd seen on the stair was the coveted red one was something that I dared not consider thinking about tonight. At least, not until I had a stronger drink on hand than the bottled water that I'd brought with me for tonight.